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‘Relax your back, Jaina. An archer’s strength comes from their arms, not their back.’ Sylvanas tapped Jaina in the small of her back with a sharp finger. ‘Now take a deep breath, because unlike me, your kind needs that. Then - Anar’alah!’
‘Sorry!’ Jaina yelped as her arrow flew over the field, landing in the ground a few feet in front of the target. ‘I couldn’t hold it.’
‘These bows are used by rangers in training, their draw isn’t heavy,’ Sylvanas frustratedly said. ‘We should stop this stupidity if you cannot keep a single arrow notched.’
‘I’m sorry, really! I’ll keep the next one on my bow, promise. Though… ’ Scanning the perimeter of the training field, Jaina spotted a few dark rangers looking on. And a seemingly disinterested Nathanos. ‘He’s not helping either.’
‘Your failing concentration is the problem, not my Ranger Lord’s presence.’
With a sigh, Jaina notched another arrow, taking a deep breath to stop her arms from trembling. Learning archery from Sylvanas had seemed like such a good idea. In truth, it wasn’t completely her own idea. Her mother had suggested that, if she wanted to grow closer to her wife, she would need to ask Sylvanas to teach her something that the elf liked to do. As any other couple that did not consist of a politically wed human mage and the Banshee Queen herself, would do.
Now Sylvanas had very few things that she actually liked to do, but after some prodding, she had taken Jaina to the training field with a few bows and a quiver full of arrows. The elf’s irritation was something Jaina hadn’t accounted for, however.
Though still, she could see why Sylvanas seemed to enjoy arching. The ropey sound when she pulled the arrow back was starting to become comfortable and so was the resounding snap of the bowstring when she let go. She focused on the red ring of the target on the other side of the field. Sylvanas’ grey-red shape moved in the corner of her vision but Jaina kept her eyes trained on the goal. When the arrow struck the underside of the target, she could barely contain doing a little leap of joy. As she looked next to her, she saw one of Sylvanas’ ears flick sluggishly, a small sign of contentment despite her lover’s silence.
And when she prepared to draw another one, she stole a quick look to the side, quirking her eyebrow at Sylvanas in a silent question. After getting no reply, she fired. This time, her arrow missed the target completely and sailed into the bushes next to the field. But that wasn’t on Jaina’s mind. The moment she had let the arrow fly, she had seen a sharp movement out of the corner of her eye. Perhaps her mind was playing tricks on her, wistfully wishing that her wife was displaying any emotion besides irritation. Yet she had to confirm her suspicion.
Again, she notched an arrow. This time when she shot, she did not follow it with her eyes. And she was glad, because now she could clearly see the twitch of Sylvanas’ ears, reacting to the whistling of the arrow as it flew through the air. A small chuckle escaped Jaina. Her hand jerked on the bow.
It was immediately followed by a pained grunt from somewhere along the field’s edge. To Jaina’s horror, Nathanos stumbled onto the field, one hand on his hindquarters, where the arrow protruded from.
‘ Tides! I’m sorry -’
With a huff, Sylvanas said: ‘He’ll live. Now do keep your eyes on the target.’
~~~~~~~
Peace-brokering was tiring. Though different types of exhaustion came with different types of meetings and councils. It also depended a lot on the parties involved. With this particular attempt, a diplomatic gathering of elves from Vereesa’s Silver Covenant and Sylvanas’ dark rangers came an air of irritation and looming confrontation that Jaina greatly disliked. To her surprise the elves seemed to get along better than their leaders. They were talking relatively peacefully, exchanging small gifts and admiring each others’ weapons. A dark ranger was petting the dragonhawk of a living quel’dorei. A small crowd had formed around another one of Vereesa’s soldiers, who was arm-wrestling with Velonara.
Sylvanas stood a distance away from the rest, keeping her glare leveled and her arms crossed. Jaina wished that her wife would be more comfortable but she knew that she could not force the Banshee Queen to do so. Unbeknownst to her, Vereesa had left a playful archery competition between three rangers of the Silver Covenant and three undead elves to join Jaina on the bench where she had seated herself.
‘Are you enjoying yourself, Jaina?’
The Lord Admiral jolted, yelping. ‘Vereesa! Gods above, don’t scare me like that!’
‘A bad habit, I’m sorry.’
‘It runs in the family, I suppose,’ Jaina laughed. ‘Though your version is less… full of smoke and glowing red eyes and sliding out of the shadows.’
Vereesa’s expression soured and her eyes shifted to her feet. Jaina felt a sting of guilt in her heart. She had hoped that the sisters would respond to their arranged meeting as their rangers did, but with the Windrunners, she should have known that it was in vain. ‘You and Sylvanas…’ Vereesa begun, hesitatingly. ‘Forgive me if I cross any lines but… are you happy with each other?’
She sounded like she asked it more out concern for Jaina’s wellbeing than for her sister’s. It reminded Jaina of the sad fact that uniting large groups of people through trade, war and such activities and rebuilding individual relationships were different things entirely. But had they not vowed to do both, the day when she and Sylvanas had clasped their hands together before the Horde and the Alliance alike?
So she flashed a smile that was equal parts real and fake. ‘We are getting along splendidly,’ she said, despite the fact that Sylvanas was intently not looking at them.
Vereesa hummed thoughtfully. ‘Truthfully? I thought I saw nothing but distance between you two, when you arrived here.’
“Here” was a plaza in Dalaran, where there could be prying eyes around every corner. It was not very strange that Sylvanas had done nothing but lightly hold Jaina’s hand, when they had arrived on the scene. Still, the Lord Admiral was intent on getting the most out of the meeting. In fact, Vereesa could very well help her with getting closer to the other elf, since their archery practice had been a disaster.
‘Merely a bit of unease,’ Jaina assured her. ‘But perhaps you could teach me something about elven… ways of showing attraction?’
‘Ways of showing attraction?’ Vereesa slowly repeated her words. ‘Well… it is custom to buy your lover a gift at the summer solstice, when Belore graces us with her full splendour. Perhaps you could… attempt that, when the day comes?’
It was a start, but not quite what Jaina was after. She laughed a tad awkwardly. ‘I meant something more in the direction of a small sign of affection. A motion that would speak of mutual trust.’
The terms “mutual trust” and “Sylvanas Windrunner” did not seem to add up in either of their heads, since Jaina blushed and Vereesa gave her a long, blank stare.
‘When a quel’dorei - or a sin’dorei, I suppose - trusts their beloved fully, they will frequently accept touches to their ears,’ Vereesa began, still hesitating and frowning. ‘But I don’t think that you and Sylvanas have reached that stage yet, if I may say so.’
‘You doubt me so, Vereesa?’ Jaina teased. ‘Allow me to show you.’
She stood up from the bench and straightened the creases in her black breeches. Hastily, the younger Windrunner grasped her hand and tried to pull her back down, but it was only a weak tug. ‘You don’t have to show me, Jaina,’ she said. ‘I’ll chose to believe you.’
In truth, Jaina had no idea what she was doing, but she wanted to do something right for both sisters. Shaking her head, she twisted the hand that Vereesa held and grabbed the elf’s fingers, longer and more slender than her stubby sailor’s digits. ‘I shall prove that there is no reason to question our relationship. Come.’
While Vereesa stood up, she slowly shook her head and unwound their hands. ‘Jaina, I appreciate the thought, but it’s probably not a very good idea, since you and Sylvanas have only been wed for a few months, and it usually takes much longer for-’
Unfortunately her words were lost to Jaina’s ears as the Lord Admiral rapidly walked up to her wife, who still had her back turned to them. Her torn red cape fluttered marginally in the wind and her ears stood stiffly upright in the holes of her hood. Jaina had no doubts that she had heard them coming. But as usual, the Dark Lady chose to pay no attention to her, yet. With a somewhat mischievous smile, she reached out for one of the grey ears. Not heeding Vereesa’s warning call, she stroked along the length of it. The texture was silky, much softer than Jaina had expected.
The effect was immediate. With a vicious snarl on her face, Sylvanas whipped around, grasping Jaina’s wrist and bending it backwards so much that it hurt. Her ears swiveled downwards as she spat: ‘What was the meaning of that, wife?’
Glaring at Jaina, then at Vereesa, who stood a few paces behind the Lord Admiral, and back, Sylvanas scowled. ‘Little Moon, was that your idea? Do you think it’s funny to mock me via my wife?’
While Jaina had no idea what Sylvanas meant by that, Vereesa grew increasingly red in the face. ‘I do not,’ she said. ‘I will not sink that low. Jaina… merely asked me something, out of curiosity.’
‘Out of curiosity ?’ Sylvanas hissed.
Oh how Jaina hated to hear one sister defending her against the other. ‘Yes,’ she said, determined not to back down from the Banshee Queen’s glare. ‘I was curious to hear about elven customs… affectionate customs.’
‘And then you thought it was a marvelous idea to enact those customs? Even though we share no such feelings?’
The words came like a stab to the heart. Jaina faltered in her sentence. ‘I - I’m sorry. I did not mean to offend you,’ she murmured.
Sylvanas only glared more viciously at them.
Jaina felt her heart shrink within her chest. She had meant no harm. With a deep sigh, Jaina glanced down at the rangers on the plaza. She already knew that it would be a long journey back to Orgrimmar.
~~~~~~~
‘I am sorry, Sylvanas, truly.’
‘I know.’
The Warchief had said nothing but two word sentences for hours. It pained Jaina, but she knew better than to say that to her wife. She would have to wait until the storm had dimmed. Thus she wrote letters, signed documents and glanced at Sylvanas every now and then. The elf was doing much the same thing.
Jaina knew that she could forget about the gift tradition on the summer solstice. It was a true shame, since she had hoped to speak about it with Sylvanas after the meeting. Something within her said that she should still attempt it, even if her gift would be discarded instantaneously. It was about the sentiment, after all.
She looked at her wife, bent over her papers on the other side of the room. Her ears, Gods, those ears, drooped beside her head like a dog’s. They instantly perked up when Jaina rolled up a scroll particularly noisily, whisking it away with a spark of arcane. She could not help uttering a sad chuckle at the sight.
~~~~~~~~
The worst thing was the fact that she noticed it every time. Ever since their disastrous end to the elves’ meeting, Jaina had this absurd focus on Sylvanas’ ears. Their stance, their little flicks and twitches, how they gave away the Warchief’s mood much more clearly than anything else. And not only in Sylvanas. She saw Alleria’s ears sag in a lax way when Alexstrasza hugged her, in the afterhours of a meeting in Wyrmrest Temple. She saw how the ears of Arcanist Valtrois constantly flitted despite their heavy jewellery as the nightborne noticed every little sound, except when Stellagosa stroked them. She wondered if Maiev Shadowsong’s halved right ear limited her ability to express her emotions but saw that it still twitched happily when Shandris Feathermoon jumped up on her tiptoe to kiss her on the cheek.
And she saw that Sylvanas had a subtle way of expressing her irritation even before her signature sneer. Her left ear twisted outwards ever so slightly, then flicked upwards, just a tad. And thus she made sure to do the little things she knew made Sylvanas comfortable when she saw that particular kind of movement. She lit a scented candle in their rooms after their councils, knowing that the smell of pine and flowers calmed the elf. She replaced the sheets, since Sylvanas liked to lie on them after a stressful day, even if her undead state made sleep impossible.
But when her ears betrayed happiness, if only a small amount, Jaina smiled and made sure not to do anything that could ruin it. Like crunching loudly with paper, singing jaunty sailors’ tunes or dragging her shoes over the floor as she walked.
It had results, if small ones. Sylvanas did not snap quite as much at her anymore. She sometimes sucked in an unnecessary breath before speaking, starting her sentence in a slightly different tone than she had first intended. In return, Jaina was rewarded with more sluggish flicks and lazy droops from her ears. Even though she could not touch them, she enjoyed their reactions and bid her time until she could touch the pair.
Then the summer solstice drew near and her nerves flared again. Vereesa had spoken about a small gift, but not what kind of gift. Jaina knew nothing better but write to a number of elves about their tradition. Alleria’s reply went more into how she should not buy gifts for Sylvanas than what kind of thing was traditional, but she did mention that Alexstrasza had given her a necklace the year prior. Sadly, the middle Windrunner sister did not wear jewellery often, apart from her sapphire necklace. When she asked Velonara, the captain of the dark rangers said that Sylvanas would prefer something useful to a trinket. Valeera’s letter spoke about certain objects that Liadrin gave her… and that Jaina would never even dare to buy. A blush rose to her cheeks at the mere thought of it.
Yet all together she did have an idea of what she would get her wife for their first summer solstice.
~~~~~~~
Sylvanas sat by the window, saying naught and not moving an inch when Jaina slowly walked up to her. Then, when the Lord Admiral cleared her throat, she turned marginally with updrawn eyebrows.
‘It’s a beautiful night, isn’t it?’ Jaina said. She was not wrong, since the entire sky was lit up in a wide spectrum of colours from dark purple to a vibrant red. Below them she could hear the voices of the inhabitants of Orgrimmar, celebrating the solstice and merrily dancing into the evening.
Sylvanas sharp voice shook her out of her happy daze. ‘What do you want?’
‘I have something for you… because of the tradition.’ With hesitation, Jaina held out her hand with a small wooden box.
While she had expected an eyeroll or at least an irritated sigh, Sylvanas only reached out with one hand. ‘If you went through the effort of asking a sin’dorei to engrave those ridiculous words onto the casket, I will do you the favour of opening it,’ she said.
‘I - I didn’t know what they meant.’ The engravings were in Thalassian, softly glowing blue with arcane in the low light. She had asked the vendor for “something according to the tradition.”
Sighing, Sylvanas read: “ When Belore shines in full, gracing the lands with her life-giving light, may our union be blessed by Her splendour. A classic, I must have read it many a dozen times in my youth. I do hope that all your flitting around with those letters did not make you overconfident.’
So Sylvanas had noticed the multitude of messages Jaina had sent. She held her breath as her wife opened the wooden box. For a moment, Sylvanas just stared at its contents. Then she uttered a tiny, pleased hum and grasped it. A sleek hunting dagger, with a dark wooden handle wrapped in supple brown leather and only a few silver inlays. Sylvanas looked down the blade, testing its sharpness with her finger. The corner of her mouth twitched in what Jaina had learnt to see as a smile. Then the elf frowned while stroking along the back of the blade. ‘This is spellforged,’ she said.
‘It is! I had it made in collaboration with the dwarves… and the nightborne. Since they have been experimenting with blending their respective techniques as part of the peace treaties and I was on a visit to Suramar recently.’
Sylvanas nodded at her rambling but otherwise focused on her gift. ‘It will stay sharp for centuries,’ she murmured with a hint of admiration in her voice. ‘Not at all traditional but… Belore …’
‘That is good, right?’ Jaina nervously asked.
‘Well, usually not. Now you cannot give me another dagger for as long as this one remains in such good states. But I will not say no to a weapon of this quality.’ Sylvanas picked the firm leather sheath out of the wooden case and chucked the box into the hearthfire. Then she clicked it onto her belt and briskly walked to the large cupboard.
‘Here,’ she said while handing Jaina a paper-wrapped lump. ‘This is for you.’
‘Sylvanas… you shouldn’t have!’ The Lord Admiral took it from her and felt a wide smile slip onto her face.
‘I would not have given it if you had not prepared a gift of your own. But my little sister has been pestering me about the tradition.’
While making a mental note to thank Vereesa later, Jaina watched in slight awe as the red silken ribbon unwrapped to its own accord. The paper fell open and revealed a thick cloak. It was coloured a variety of warm shades. Reds, browns and oranges wound over each other in broad stripes, braiding and wrapping over the fabric. Jaina was still softly squealing in joy when Sylvanas said:
‘I saw you sitting by the hearth in that rag that you still call a blanket many times… so when I visited Highmountain I had this made for you.’
Jaina felt so happy that she nearly sprung forward to hug Sylvanas, but refrained at the last second.
A few minutes later, they both sat besides the fire. Sylvanas was still inspecting the dagger, poking against the metal and undoubtedly feeling the spells ripple within. Jaina on her part was happily wrapped up in her new blanket, reading a book and enjoying the blissful warmth. She had read through half of it before noticing that the tapping of nails on metal had stopped on the other side of the fire. When she looked up from her book she saw Sylvanas’ glowing red gaze focused on her.
‘Is everything alright?’ Jaina asked. ‘Did I disturb the tradition too much with my… unusual gift? I did not mean to, if that’s the case. I respect your customs and meant no harm.’
The undead slowly shook her head. ‘No… that - that’s not the issue.’ Her voice sounded frailer than Jaina had ever heard.
In fact, she sounded so depressed that Jaina stood up from her seat and walked over to Sylvana armchair, sitting down on the armrest. It creaked and she briefly wondered if she could give Sylvanas a new one for Winter’s Veil.
The elf was looking away from her, focused on the hearthfire. She suddenly shuddered and Jaina watched as her ears swiveled flatly against her skull, a sign of great distress. In a bold move, she laid a hand onto Sylvanas’ shoulder. ‘What is the issue, then? I’m very happy with your gift! And I think we should keep to the elven customs. It’s a great way to-’
‘The elven customs, Jaina? Customs ?’
Now Sylvanas sounded mildly angry as well as saddened. She hunched her shoulders and bent her head so her trembling right ear stroked the back of Jaina’s hand. ‘You shouldn’t have spoken with Vereesa on the peace meeting,’ she said, near accusingly, yet her body said something else entirely.
Jaina rotated her hand, not grabbing the ear but holding it ever so slightly in her palm. It immediately stopped trembling. ‘I shouldn’t have?’
Her wife did not answer, she did not turn her head away either. Rather, she made a muted noise in the back of her throat that Jaina had not heard before.
‘Sylvanas?’
‘Stop talking.’
While Jaina wanted to make at least a little quip or a comment about how silkily soft the elf’s skin was, she refrained when feeling Sylvanas sink further into the pillows of the chair.
‘How do you do this?’ she asked instead. Tides, she hadn’t thought this through beyond getting to touch the elf’s ears in the first place.
Sylvanas covered her hand with a colder one, still not speaking, her eyes focused on the dancing flames in the hearth. Then she wound her index finger under Jaina’s and moved it to rest inside the shell of her ear, firmly pressing it against the skin. After that she removed her hand, entwining it with her other, clasping them together in her lap, leaving Jaina to her task.
And with that, Jaina went to work. She encircled the ear with her hand and slowly drew it up to the tip. Perhaps it was her wistful imagination, but Sylvanas’ head seemed to sink a little bit further into the backrest of the couch. When she let go of the ear to repeat the motion, the very tip gave a little flick, as if commanding her to come back this instant. Jaina could not help but giggle. Truly, the ear behaved just like its owner. When she repeated the slow strokes for minutes on end, Sylvanas eventually let go of a little high trill, sounding deep in her chest. Immediately she stiffened, succeeding in making half a move to rise from the chair until Jaina rested an arm on her shoulder, not pressing her back down but rather reminding her of her presence.
‘We’re alone, Sylvanas. Allow yourself this, please,’ she murmured.
The Banshee Queen’s expression was unreadable, but Jaina did not miss the way her eyebrows were tightly drawn together. ‘We have already been doing this for more than ten minutes,’ she said. We, not you. Then, quickly, before Jaina could interject, she continued: ‘I counted. An old rangers’ habit.’
‘Ten minutes isn’t that much.’ Without accepting further protests, but chuckling at how a noise died in her wife’s throat when she rubbed a circle where Sylvanas’ left ear met her skull, Jaina went back to work. Through experimentation she found out that the elf liked it best when she kept her touches firm and centered around the lower and middle sections of the ears, though she did not mind the occasional upstroke.
Sylvanas on her part seemed the most content Jaina had ever seen her. The smile she wore was not the sly, toothy kind that Jaina saw when she succesfully got her way in councils between Horde and Alliance leaders. Neither was it the victorious grin that she sometimes donned after a battle, which represented a grimace more than anything. No, this was a small smile, in which the corners in her mouth were updrawn without showing her teeth. It fit her much better than the other kinds of smiles that Jaina had seen on her.
When she finally stopped after what felt like hours of tending to the elf’s ears, Sylvanas did not stir. If Jaina did not know that sleeping was impossible for undead, without the aid of a particularly strong sleeping potion - which was something they saved for about once a month - she would have thought that slumber had captured her. Only when Jaina knelt down besides the chair did she open one of her red eyes. Her ears hung relaxedly next to her head. Jaina could not help it, she simply had to grasp one of them lightly and bob it up and down. Yes, as she had been suspecting, the grey length was entirely floppy and even a bit warm from her hands. A fit of giggles came out of her mouth before she was entirely aware of it.
She gave Sylvanas a lazy kiss on her cheek, laughing harder when both her ears sprung upright in an instant. When she wanted to head back to her own chair to grab her blanket, Sylvanas held her by an arm, then wrapped her arm around Jaina’s waist and kissed her with a hunger that the mage had not seen before. She even permitted Jaina to cup the back of her neck with a hand while they kissed. Only when she was breathless and could no longer meet Sylvanas’ silky soft lips even if she wished to did the elf let her go.
‘Oh, of course. Your kind has to breathe,’ she remarked, smirking casually. ‘How sad.’
With a flick of her hand, Jaina summoned her new blanket to their now shared chair, wrapping them both into it despite Sylvanas’ quiet complaint about not needing warmth. They went right back to kissing, naturally. After that, perhaps there would be time for some more ear touching. The night was still young.